


Nonsense

by D4tD (dance4thedead)



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alexander Pierce is an evil bastard, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Drug Use, HYDRA Trash Party, M/M, Needles, Sexual Dysfunction, bucky barnes' broken dick, sexual exploitation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:53:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26690968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dance4thedead/pseuds/D4tD
Summary: What he does is switch to Romanian (which Steve can't understand at all), and for the rare concept where he finds himself reaching for fitting words, Russian (which Steve understands very little of).A trash-flashback sandwiched between wholesomeness.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 8
Kudos: 73
Collections: Banned Together Bingo 2020





	Nonsense

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Cloudy for looking over an earlier draft!
> 
> For the BTB square: I'll Know It When I See It.

* * *

"His scorn of the gods, his hatred of death, and his passion for life won him that unspeakable penalty in which the whole being is exerted toward accomplishing nothing."  
_-Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus_

* * *

Erectile dysfunction is one of several fun Hydra souvenirs Bucky's still got. It's stuck with him long after his memories returned in the eight months he's lived with Steve. He moved into the spare bedroom, and a month later, the master one. 

They're in bed naked one night, sheets kicked to their ankles, when Bucky says: 

"It's still good for me, you know." 

Steve tilts his head up from where he's sprawled out in Bucky's embrace, all loose and languid. He doesn't press Bucky to continue, thank god, and Bucky knows that he could stop there, letting the statement hang in the air like one of his many contextless musings.

He glares down disapprovingly to where his hips are angled politely away, where his dick lies flaccid as, well, ever. Including earlier as the bright tingles ran through him while he took apart Steve with the help of some artistically molded silicone.

"It's like I can enjoy the hike up the mountain if I don't feel like I have to try for the top." He doesn't think it comes out bitter, maybe. 

"Mhm, no pressure, Buck," Steve murmurs. "Always."

"I know."

At that, Bucky does roll over, because Steve makes him yearn, both for him and for the scraps of pleasure he's still able to feel. Steve obliges, tracing loose swirls on his inner thighs with his fingertips. Yes, Steve, it's okay, Bucky wordlessly urges him on, and the warm hand curls around his cock and starts to slowly jack him off. Bucky breathes out a moan.

When the sensation fizzles out to nothing more than an uncomfortable constriction, like the collar of a too tight turtleneck, Bucky sighs and lifts Steve's hand away, kissing the back of it. 

Steve pulls up the covers while Bucky starts to run his mouth. It's another indulgence, talking freely. Having words at all. Having words that aren't limited to the Asset's permitted responses. Having words that aren't three-two-five-five-seven...

There's a memory itching to get free, a truth clawing its way out from a locked box. He's not comfortable going shirtless in public, but sometimes... sometimes he stands in front of the bathroom mirror, comforted by the proof his scared up shoulder provides.

Steve has said he's willing to listen, but Bucky is unwilling to share the weight. What he does is switch to Romanian (which Steve can't understand at all), and for the rare concept where he finds himself reaching for fitting words, Russian (which Steve understands very little of). 

He tells the story into the 2AM darkness of one of the rapes that's circling his mind. 

Mid-80s. The techs did a real piss-poor job of patching him up after a job gone sour. Begging and bartering for morphine with his body and the one word he was always allowed to say. Being so desperate for proper maintenance that he drags himself bleeding on all fours to a pair of immaculate tan Oxfords. 

_"Good boy,"_ Pierce commends.

Bucky feels Steve stiffen at Pierce's name. But he doesn't interrupt more than giving his shoulder a light squeeze, a gentle nonverbal "still listening, pal."

Bucky tells how he gave the best head he could manage while his kidneys struggled to repair themselves. How his deep throating skills, now repurposed for use on the man he loves, were honed by being an animal with nothing left to lose. He says this like Steve can understand him, can absolve him.

 _"See, I can be benevolent,"_ Pierce's voice echoes with saccharine fondness as he measures out a quarter dose of Bucky's usual painkillers, even though the mission fuck-up warranted less. Karpov used to let him scream. 

He had moaned with overwhelming gratitude as the needle went in and the hard waves of agony softened, Bucky confesses while Steve begins to nod off. He would have offered his mouth, his ass, to every person in that room a second round for the promise of another quarter dose, if they let him. If his body was even his to give.

But that line of logic is fucked beyond belief. He wants back all the parts of himself that Hydra stole, because Steve deserves it. 

Hell, maybe one day he'll even believe he deserves it for himself, too.

"Thank you," Bucky says softly, in English, once it's all out of his system for the night. 

He feels lighter somehow. It probably won't last for long, he knows. His dreams tend to not be so kind. 

For now, he re-adjusts Steve so the idiot doesn't wake up with metal arm lines on his beautiful stupid face, and then drifts off into an easy sleep next to him. And all is quiet.

* * *

  
"The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy."  
_-Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus_


End file.
